


Setting Roots

by SaffronClover



Category: Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-30
Updated: 2014-07-31
Packaged: 2018-02-11 01:34:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,744
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2048247
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaffronClover/pseuds/SaffronClover
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set on the way to Haven, the group gets an unexpected guest who makes the Warden Saffron question grief, and regret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prelude

“We’ll set camp here.”

The elf scanned the area one last time, bright grey eyes looked over the new campsite. Tonight they would rest their heads on the top of a hill, in what she could guess was an abandoned fort, but now a pile of rubble. It was suitable though: one side had its wall still up, which would make great use for backing their tents up to. They would have to watch three sides instead of four tonight.

“Warden,” came a gruff voice from behind her. She turned around and looked at Sten, sighing, “How many times have I asked you to call me Saffron?”

“Many.” Said the Quinari, in a matter-of-fact way. “Shall I begin the preparing the kill?”

Saffron gave him a short nod and he went on his way. At the beginning of their trip Sten had not known much about hunting or preparing of the meals, saying his job was the killing of enemies and the cooking was that of the lesser. Because of necessity he had come around to learn from her. She was adept at bringing home the kill, that being her role in her clan, or would have been if she had the opportunity to become a full-fledged hunter. Of course that was before they knew of the Blight, before the Eluvian, before Tamlen…

She rubbed her eyes with her thumb and index finger, and then ran her long, slim fingers through her ashen hair. ‘No, stop it Saff. You shall not think of that now.’ She thought. Callous was the way she had become in her journey, hardening her heart was what she promised to do. However she occasionally ventured to laugh at one of Alistair’s jokes, sitting in anticipation listening to Leliana’s stories, or blushing at Zevran’s come-ons.

Sliding the pack from her shoulder Saffron began unpacking her furs. She looked up and her eyes met those of the Crow assassin, Zevran Aranai. He gave her a knowing smirk and her cheeks flush. She looked down at the ground, as if contemplating the dirt was of top priority. Her mind wandered to their little tryst in the forest not a few hours earlier. Because she and Zevran were the most adept at climbing trees and sneaking about, they had gone out to scout while the party rested. There they found an unlikely foe: a doe grazing, and thank the Creators the pair were down wind of her. Saffron had easily taken her prey out with one arrow, and Zevran took down his prey with a couple light touches and words whispered in her ear.

The assassin had become her bed warmer a few months back, and it profited them both. Even though Zevran had Dalish blood, being raised in the warm Antivan climate did not prepare him for Fereldan’s cold summers, and harsh winters. Having her extra furs and body heat made sleeping all the better for him, and having him to “release her tension” greatly benefitted her and had begun to crack that cold exterior; many in the party were relieved.

At first it was just that, an agreement; They’d be intimate, and then part ways, Saffron to her bed roll and furs, Zevran in his tent. Over time Zevran would invite her to stay the night. The hunter was hesitant at first, never having shared a bed with anyone before, but in the end she stayed. It had been that way every night since, and soon they found themselves talking the night away. Zevran would regale stories from his days as a Crow, and life in Antiva. Soon he found interest in Saffron’s Dalish life, asking about the people. He wanted to know about the history, the language, and their pantheon.

Saffron was forced to see that he was no simple assassin, as much as he tried to convince her otherwise. Their friendship blossomed there and on the battlefield, as Zevran proved to be a skilled fighter, having saved her life many times over. He jested that by now she should be his bound man, of course she’d just laugh and tell him to count the arrows in the enemies around him. It was no secret that the two were getting close, for both Wynne and Alistair talked to her about their little goings on. Both times she encouraged just how casual their relationship was, nothing more. Wynne would just nod solemnly, and Alistair… well he wouldn’t understand.

Approaching steps snapped Saffron back into the present. Looking up she saw Zevran still smirking. “Saffron, my dear, will you be joining me again in my tent tonight?” he put a hand to his chin, looking as if he was contemplating what her answer would be.

“What, and let you freeze to death? Not on my watch.”

“Good to know. You take such wonderful care of us, fearless leader.”

She chuckled, “Of course. Do you require assistance in setting up the tent?” Saffron did not wait for his answer, but instead headed over to where he had laid it and began to construct. Being a Crow had its drawbacks, but it also had its perks, so it seemed. When Zevran came into their little company he brought along with him much needed supplies: Food, water canisters, a couple extra tents, maps, and medical supplies. The party might not have been happy with her decision to keep him, but she sure was; it was nice having another of her kind around.

The hours went by quickly as they worked to set up camp. Tents went up, the fire started; Leiliana and Alistair bickered over how to cook the doe with Leliana winning, of course. A meager meal to any noble was in fact a feast to them: a venison stew with wild onions and various dried herbs Morrigain had in her pack. After the meal the party began winding down: Morrigain retreated to her tent, Sten and Alistair each to their own bed rolls, seeing as they had second watch that night. First watch was to be done by Leliana and Wynne, and together they sat by the fire. The mage was repairing some of her own skirts, which had been found with holes, and the lovely bard sat against a tree, picking at a lute in a non-chelate manner.

Saffron had found a comfortable perch upon a low sitting stone with Zevran sitting below her, his back against it and one hand wrapped around a dangling leg of hers. One of his leg drawn up, eyes closed and head against the stone, he was enjoying the Dalish girl running her fingers through his hair. She’d take a section and run her fingers through the blond locks, proceeding to plait, then smooth them back out.

“Women.”

“Ah, my favorite thing: Asha.” Zevran said with his roguish smirk.

“Blood.” Saffron braided another section of hair.

“Lin.”

“Hm. Joy.”

Zevran pressed his lips together and scrunched his nose. “Nan?”

Saffron giggled in amusement, and tugged Zevran’s hair so his head crooked back. She leaned forward and smiled as he opened his eyes. “Nehn. ‘Nan’ means ‘rebellion.’ Getting those two mixed up could lead to an awkward situation. Call a Dalish girl ‘Ma`nan’, and you may not get the desired outcome.”

“Oh, I don’t know, If I were a lucky man-which I am-it may get the right one.” He smiled up at her, making her blush. She let go of his hair and gave his shoulder a playful shove, and swung herself off the side of the stone. “Done already, my dear Warden? I was enjoying the massage.”

“I think you’ve had enough language lessons for one night, Zev. These tired fingers are going to bed.” With that she gave a quick wave to Wynne and Leliana and headed into the tent she and Zevran were sharing. All Saffron ever wore were the traditional Dalish hunter gear: Leather top that cut off right below her breasts, and leather skirt with knee high leather boots; the gloves and boots she had removed earlier. The armor was lite and offered no defense; something Sten pointed out early on, but it allowed her to move nimbly and be unencumbered. She always said that she did not mean to be seen.

With her armor removed and her bow and quiver next to the pile of furs she was left in only a breast band and shorts she used as small cloths. Behind her a slight breeze and shining of firelight came through, which indicated Zevran’s entrance. She quickly slipped herself under the covers, away from the growing cold in the shadows of the Frostback Mountains.

The group had healed Connor with the help from the Circle, and was now charged in bringing the Urn of Sacred Ashes to heal Arl Eamon. Their investigation took them to Denirem, where they found notes from a religious historian about a town called ‘Haven’ having links to the Urn. No one had any idea such a place existed, but it was the only lead they had so they might as well follow it. Gaging from the map they acquired from Genitivi’s personal notes they were only a days walk from the town. Luckily the party had enough foreknowledge of the climate, and had already purchased warmer gear for the hike.

“Warming up the bed for me?” Zevran said. “First playing with my hair, and now I get to enjoy the comforts of a lovely woman. Ah, life of a bound man, how you torture me.” Zevran began removing his own leathers, next tunic and underclothes until there was nothing left but hungry eyes and a smile. The filtered light from the campfire gleamed off his tanned skin, showing off his very impressive physique… and excitement.

Saffron’s Elvan partner slipped under the furs, and leaned over her supported on one elbow. Zevran took his freehand and began to run a light finger over her stomach, tracing her muscles down to the top of her shorts. He leaned down and began kissing her neck and grazing her with his teeth, trailing kisses down to her collarbone.

“Oh? Maybe some Crows will surround the camp, take us unawares and whisk you away from this slavery I’ve put you in.” Saffron teased. She closed her eyes and parted her lips slightly, letting out a small moan of pleasure. “Again? Have you ever been told you’re insatiable?”

Zevran smiled. “That’s how the story’s been told.” He whispered in her ear. The Antavian began nibbling on her ear as his hand began exploring the area under her shorts.

“Mmm, Emma da’mi.” Saffron moaned. She knew how much he loved when she spoke to him in her native tongue, and was happy to oblige him. She opened up her legs to allow him to explore more, and begun raising her hips to meet his fingers.

In a split second Saffron felt as if she was hit with a hammer.


	2. Chapter 2

_In a split second Saffron felt as if she was hit with a hammer._

 

Visions of Darkspawn running in the dark filled her mind. Her eyes flashed open as she gasped deeply, drawing out a look of concern from Zevran. “Darkspawn.” She whispered. Her eyes met Zevrans. “Darkspawn!” As quickly as she could she rolled out of the furs and begun searching frantically for her leathers. They were on in record time and looked out the flap of the tent to see Alistair pulling his sword and shield out. Wynne already had her staff in hand and Leliana was nocking an arrow in her bow. “Alistair! Did you-“

“Yes! Did you feel them too?”

Saffron gave a nod and rushed out of the tent. “How did they know?”

“As much as we can feel them, they can feel us too. Damnit!” By that time the whole camp was awake. Morrigain and Sten had joined them near the fire, everyone’s backs to each other looking out in the darkness.

Had the two Wardens not been there to raise the alarm, one would have thought it was a peaceful night with naught a reason to worry. Saffron looked around, arrow nocked in her bow, squatting low as to be the least threatening figure in the group. Sweat dripped down the side of her face as she felt her heart nearly beating out of her chest.

 

That was when all hell broke loose.

 

First the short, stocky Genlocks came, losing arrows towards the party. They scattered, so as to not be such an easy target. One of Morrigain’s spells wizzed by Alistair’s head, taking one to the ground as he impaled it with his sword. He knocked another with his shield, and bashed the side of its face with the pommel of his sword.

Zevran was busy slicing a Hurlock with precision strikes to all the vital areas of the body: Inner thighs, inner arms, and as a finishing move the neck. Black blood gushed out and splattered onto the Elf with blood lust in his eyes.

Wynne and Leiliana stood back to back. The elder mage cast spells on the other party members to enhance their abilities, and Leliana let lose arrow after arrow into her foes, taking out her dagger only to put a nice red smile on a Hurlock who came too close.

Next came a creature none of them had seen before. They leapt up on all fours and had incredible speed, and their shrieks caused pain that went to the bone. Soon even Sten was overrun, slashing his two handed sword about, hoping his large swings would catch one or two. Saffron loosed arrows, allowing them to rain down upon their victims.

An arrow whizzed by Saffron’s head, so close it was she could feel the feathers brush up against her cheek. She spun around, arrow at the ready to see the foe behind her. In front of her was a thin figure, dark skinned and holding his bow up to her. They stood still, eyes fixed on each other, arms tensing up, waiting to see who would strike first. That’s when she saw him lower his bow, relaxing the arrow on the string.

“You… Lethellan…” He said in a deep, scratchy voice.

Her eyes went wide as she lowered her own bow. Her heart nearly stopped as she felt her legs turn to jelly. “M-Mercy of the gods! It’s can’t be-“ Her words stop as a thrown dagger whizzed by and struck him in the shoulder. He gave out a pained shriek and Saffron looked to the daggers owner, Zevran. “Stand back! I know this one!” She looked to the ghoul in front of her, and he stared back wide-eyed.

“Don’t… come near me. Stay away!” With that he ran and Saffron gave chase. Soon she found him backed to a dark corner between two giant columns. “Don’t look at me.” He cowered a bit as she stepped closer.

“Saffron! Stay back from him!” She heard Alistair running towards her.

“Please! Give me a moment. Trust me.” Saffron voice cracked; could hardly contain the emotion in her as it threatened to spill onto her cheeks. She slowly approached the ghoul; hands slightly stretched out and palm forward as to show she had no weapon. She leaned down to him, and brushed a wary hand over his forehead. She touched the markings on his face that indicated his worship of the Creators. His eyes met hers, and she saw the sorrow and pain in them. “Oh, Tamlen, what did they do to you?” Saffron said, tears spilling out of her eyes and running down her face.

She put a hand on the dagger that sat embedded in his shoulder and pulled it out. On the tip of the blade was the black blood of the taint. It dropped from her hand and onto the soft grass.

“I am sick.” Tamlen said, with a rasp.

“We can help you, Tamlen. Do not be afraid.” By that time the fighting had finished, and the whole camp gathered as an audience behind her; she didn’t care though. Both of his hands found their way to her shoulders, and hers rested on his cheeks. Saffron brought her forehead forward and rested it on his.

“No help. No… help for me. The song in… my head. It calls to me, it sings to me. I can’t stop it!” His grip tightened on her. “Don’t want to hurt you, Lethellan. Please stop me... Stop me!”

Saffron let one hand drop and she gritted her teeth, holding back the sobs. “Emma vhenanI, ma sa’lath, I wish we never found that cave.”

His grip tightened even more on her arms, “Always… loved you.” His hands then began to move up her arms to her shoulders, and he placed them gently around her neck. “I’m so sorry.”

Saffron heard him give an audible gasp, and felt his grip on her neck slip, falling to his sides. She suddenly became aware of the blade in her hand and the black stickiness that covered it. The dagger which was in his shoulder was now shoved up and between his ribs, penetrating his heart. She watched as he slipped from her, and she held an arm out to catch him. “Thank… you, vhenan'ara.”

With that he was gone.

Saffron held him up with one arm, and held his head close to her chest with the other. Her sobs could now be heard throughout the camp, but she didn’t care. She didn’t care what happened to her now. The one man she loved was now laying dead in her arms, the man who she was promised to, her best friend and lover. She had thought him dead, or at least convinced herself he was, she had not wanted to think that his fate led him down such a dark path.

Movement was made, and suddenly she became very aware that she was still not alone. “We should be burning the bodies.” Sten said, and with that more footsteps could be heard.

When she was a little girl she was told that her mother died in childbirth. The caravan had stopped to let her mother finish her labor, and she passed shortly after her entrance into this world. Marethari said she gained her namesake from the Saffron flowers a three-year-old Tamlen had picked for the new orphan. As children they were inseparable, Tamlen causing trouble with Saffron never far behind. When he wanted to become a hunter, so did she. When she received her blood writing, Andruil’s bow, he stood by her and held her hand. So it came as no surprise when they became promised to one another, and they would have been bound by now had it not been for that Eluvian.

“Saffron…” She snapped back to reality. Saffron had not heard Alistair approach, but did not turn to greet him. “We need to have the body so we can burn it, we can’t let the corruption-“

She moved without thinking. Blade in hand she whirled her torso around and held it to his approach. “Ar tu na'lin emma mi, I swear it Shem take one step closer and I will slit your throat!” The elf was wide eyed and she could only imagine how crazy she looked. The Templar gave pause, tension thick in the air. None in the camp moved, startled by Saffron’s statement. Morrigain smirked and Sten folded his arms disapprovingly. Both Alistair and Saffron stood still, waiting for the other to make a move, her eyes wide and fixed on her target.

The first to move was Alistair, slowly taking steps back. Saffron watching him only to turn back to her dead love and continued to cradle him. How much time passed Saffron could not say. She heard Morrigain set fire to the Darkspawn bodies, feeling the flames almost licking at her back. The smell of the burning bodies was putrid, and stung her nose. If she were not already crying she was sure this would bring about a few tears.

Eventually Saffron put Tamlen’s body down, and brought his dead hand to her face pressing the palm against her tear-streaked face. She kissed it, then gently laid his arm across his chest. A moment was given for her to soak him in, remembering his sandy blonde hair and his tanned skin. That smile on his face that meant trouble, and the way he kissed her when no one was looking.

When that moment was gone she stood up and walked back to the camp, passing Zevran who was sitting not too far from where Tamlen’s body lay. She marched up to their supplies and rifled through until she found a spade. She then went to her pack, which was right next to Zevran’s tent and slung it over her shoulder, making a beeline for Tamlen. She set the pack down next to him and begun digging. She was only a couple feet in, sweat dripping from her forehead, when she heard another digging: It was Zevran. He gave her a knowing look; Saffron nodded to him, and the continued their progress.

An hour went by; some the camp was already back in bed by the time the grave was dug. Zevran helped lower Tamlen’s body into the ditch, and once he pulled himself out Saffron threw a lit torch where the body lay. The two stood there, unmoving and wordless, as his armor took to the flame, slowly watching the body become engulfed.

Cremation was not the way of the Dalish, but Saffron was no fool; she knew the body needed to be burned so the taint would not destroy the area. She also didn’t want her love to be added to a mass grave. Tears ran down her cheeks, the licking flames becoming red and yellow blurs in her eyes. Zevran looked to her feeling completely helpless as to what to do. He wanted to hold her, tell her how sorry he was. She was their leader, she was the strong one, but he knew she did not feel strong now.

Once the flames began to die down the two made quick work of filling the grave in. That was when Saffron reached into her pack and pulled out a seed the size of a gold piece. With two hands she worked the soil over the grave, placed the seed in and covered it up. Saffron backed up and stood next to Zevran, hands folded in front of her.

 

“Elder your time is come,

Now I am filled with sorrow.

Weary eyes need resting,

Heart has become grey and slow.

In waking sleep is freedom.”

 

Saffron choked back the stone in her throat and held back the tears.

 

“We sing, rejoice.

We tell the tales.

We laugh and cry.

We love one more day.”

 

The silence seemed to go on forever. For once Saffron didn’t know what to do next: Was she to scream and curse the creators? Go off into the wild to search for a foe? Collapse in a heap of misery and tears, and never get up? She had so many things running through her mind when she felt a hand on her shoulder. It was Leliana, and with her were Alistair and Wynne. Zevran was still next to her, more silent than she’d like.

Saffron turned to her friends and gave a shuttered sigh. “I… think I owe you all an explanation.”


	3. Chapter 3

_Saffron turned to her friends and gave a shuttered sigh. “I… think I owe you all an explanation.”_

 

 

Wynne smiled sadly. “You do not owe us anything, dear.”

Saffron shook her head. “No, I do. You are at least owed knowing who that was.” She took a deep breath in. “His name was Tamlen. He was a part of my clan.”

Alistair’s eyes went wide. “Tamlen? Then… he was the one who was with you when you… I’m so sorry.” Alistair shook his head. “This is what happens when the taint is left unchecked. It’s… It’s better for him, to have it end. It was a mercy.” Both Leliana and Wynne nodded in agreement, Zevran just stood quietly.

           The young elvan woman nodded. “Yes, Alistair. However, he was not just part of the clan, he was the man I was to be bound to… wed, as you Shemlen say. Since my parents were not around I found refuge with the other Dalish among the clan, and he was one of them.”

A sob wracked her body, and she shivered from trying to suppress it. “Tamlen… he went scouting one day, and I joined him. We found a few Shems who were trespassing on our lands, but they were running in fear from what they called ‘demons.’ Tamlen was intrigued and wanted to see what they were so fearful of. I was wary, and warned him not to go, to instead see the Keeper first. Tamlen was always so fearless and confident, the fool. We ran into monsters, but that still did not deter him. That was when we discovered a giant mirror, which gave no reflection. I begged Tamlen not to touch it, I begged him to get away. He was entranced; he cried for my help, I was so afraid I couldn’t-“ Saffron cut herself off, burying her face in her hands.

After a moment of silence she was able to compose herself. “I don’t remember anything after that, other than waking up on the forest floor and Duncan standing over me. He carried me back to my people and the next thing I knew three days had passed. My keeper wove magic into me and was able to stave off the taint for a while. I felt weak, but I wanted to go back out and look for Tamlen.” She looked to the side, at the mound of dirt lying next to her. “We were unable to find a body.” She gazed back to the three listening to her.

The whole time Alistair studied her, but at that moment his eyes went wide in understanding. “That… explains a lot. That explains why…” He suddenly became very aware of everyone. “Oh, was I talking out loud? I have a bad habit of doing that.” He cleared his throat.

His and Saffron’s eyes met and she nodded. Earlier in their trip Alistair tried giving her a gift in the form of a rose, he even tried kissing her. She’d have to be stupid not to see such a handsome, and capable man that stood in front of her. He was a virgin, a man looking for love, he had a lot to offer some lucky young woman one day but at that moment she was no good for anyone. She tried convincing him of that, but with no explanation as to why her heart was not available he had thought she was simply trying to let him down with an excuse.

“Duncan convinced me looking for Tamlen was a lost cause, because he had been exposed to the taint too long. Duncan never said that he was dead, just that we would never find a body. I had always assumed-hoped-that he was dead. I never wanted… this.” She motioned a hand to the grave. “Had I known, I don’t know, maybe I could have done something.”

“There was nothing you could do.” Leliana said. “Trust what Duncan said, that he was beyond help. You gave him the best end to his curse. He kept his humanity long enough to spare you, long enough not to kill you.”

Saffron nodded solemnly. She was still not convinced, but it was nice hearing those words, and maybe one day she’d believe them. For now the vision of her tainted lover was too much for her. She shook her head and ran her long, slender fingers through her hair. “Thank you everyone for listening to my story. Now you all know why I am what I am.”

Wynne took a step forward and put a reassuring hand on Saffron’s shoulder. “Thank you for your story, dear. I venture to say that everyone in this group has had hardships. We may not know everything you’re going through, but we understand a loss just the same. Never hesitate to talk to me, there may be wisdom some left in these old bones.” That brought out a small smile in the elf. “I can not heal your heart, that must be done on its own in your time. I can however cast a spell to put you at ease for the night.”

Crying was the last thing Saffron wanted to continue. She never gave in to her weaknesses, but this time she felt safe enough to do so. Her eyes met Wynne’s and she nodded. With very little effort, or at least what her face gave away, Wynne passed a blue aura, and suddenly Saffron was filled with lightness, as if she were on a cloud. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, no longer needing to suppress the want to cry. _‘I shall cry no more.’_ Saffron told herself. When she opened her eyes again she saw Wynne and Leliana both smiling at her. The senior mage let go of her shoulders and bid her a good night, while Leliana hugged her tightly.

“His story shall not go untold, I promise you. Your sacrifice neither, for it is a Bard’s call to give life to tales one would presume dead.” It was odd, but this reassured Saffron; the idea of Tamlen no longer being remembered was unsettling.

“We shouldn’t stay around long.” Alistair said. Both Leliana and Saffron looked at him. “Who knows how many more Darkspawn the Archdemon has sent.”

Saffron nodded, “You’re right. At first light we pack and set forth. We have ground to cover before reaching Haven.”

Alistair and Leliana nodded. The young bard turned to leave, but the Templar stood there, looking down at his leader. His eyes shifted to Zevran, and he cleared his throat nervously, “Zevran, If you could, I’d like to speak to Saffron.” Alistair furrowed his brows when he did not move. “Alone.”

“Oh?” Zevran said, he crossed his arms and gave Alistair a look. “Is it not something you can say in front of everyone? It is some big secret, yes?” He said with an annoyed tone. He knew of the unwanted attention Alistair had given Saffron in the past. When he and Saffron became intimate Alistair stopped, acting like a kicked puppy, but stopped nonetheless.

Alistair crossed his own arms, “As a matter of fact it is.”

Saffron sighed, “Please, Zev. It’s all right. Try to get some sleep. We have a big day tomorrow.”

Zevran looked from Alistair, to her, and back. He relaxed his arms and nodded. “Alas, I can not defy the order of such a stunning woman. I bid you good night, Grey Wardens.”

When Zevran had made his entrance into the tent Alistair and Saffron turned their attention to each other. He cleared his throat and scratched the back of his neck. “I…” he stopped talking and simply looked at her, raising his hands as if he was going to say something. His mouth opened then closed without word, he hesitated and let his arms fall to the side. She knew he wanted to say something, but she could see he was conflicted. Wordlessly he turned around and walked away.

Saffron sighed out of relief; the last thing she wanted right now was for Alistair to prattle on about feeling and emotions. He handled death a lot differently than she did, and as numb as she felt Saffron knew she couldn’t handle him.

The only sound heard was the fire burning the bodies of the Darkspawn. It crackled and occasionally spurt at the tainted bodies, still giving off a putrid scent. All the camp was either asleep, or trying to sleep, but Saffron knew she could not. Even if she could sleep she would not join Zevran in his tent again that night. The young elf retreated to the two columns Tamlen had been cowering at, and sat down. With knees drawn up she wrapped her arms tightly around them, resting her lips against her legs. She stared at the mound of dirt naught a couple feet in front of her.

Memories of her childhood flooded her mind. She closed her eyes and could see the canopy of the Bracilian Forest. She could see the light penetrating the leaves, giving off light green hues and darker ones as leaves overlapped each other. She tried to imagine the smell of the wet ground after a rain, and the feeling of early morning mist making her skin prickle. The laughter of the Dalish children rang in her ears as they played, and she could hear the chatter of her Clan around her. Lastly, she imagined Tamlen’s hands on her, his warm, bare chest pressed up against hers during one of their secret rendezvous away from the camp. She could feel his hot breath against her cheek as he whispered sweet things in her ear.

Saffron shuttered as she suppressed a sob; either Wynne’s spell was not strong enough, or it was wearing off. _‘Stop crying, stop being weak. If you can’t control your emotions, how can you lead the fight against the Archdemon?’_ She continued to think of times before the Darkspawn, happier times when things were simple.

When Saffron looked up from her legs she found that not minutes when by, but hours. The sky was beginning to light up, casting a dull blue color everywhere. The oddest thing was she felt warm and fuzzy, very comfortable. As she lifted her head and straightened her back she found one of her furs draped around her body. “How did you get here?” She said aloud, clutching the fur closer to her body.

Out of the corner of her eye she saw the golden blonde hair of Zevran. He was sitting a few feet from her, looking off into the distance deep in thought. Saffron stayed quiet looking back at the same horizon as he. They both sat there together, none saying a word, just enjoying the morning that was completely ignorant of the fight the night before.

Zevran broke the peace first. “I ventured out after all was quiet. You were sitting here looking utterly cold, and alone. I thought ‘Zevran, if you lost something precious to you, and were cast out into the cold, what would you like?’ Well, first thought was a prostitute and some warm soup. Alas, I was unable to find either. Then I thought ‘Maybe Zevran and a warm blanket would do for now.’”

Saffron nodded. “That was very kind of you, Zev.” He looked at her and gave a small smile, and she saw the weariness in his eyes. “Did you sleep at all?”

He shook his head. “No, I couldn’t fall asleep. It was bitterly cold in that tent all by myself. I thought since I couldn’t sleep, I could at least make sure my favorite Grey Warden was safe.”

If Saffron was honest with herself, she would say she didn’t care what happened, but all she did was nod.

“I… never told you about the last mission I had before I came here.”

“You never wanted to talk about it, I didn’t want to push.”

Zevran gave a sad smile to the ground. “Well, I guess this would be a good time to talk about it, then.” He hesitated. “There is a reason I accepted this mission in Ferelen, far away from home, and it had nothing to do with any thought of leaving the Crows. Meeting you, after all, was quite an accident. ” Zevran began picking his nail with a small dagger. “My last mission before this one… did not end well.

“What happened?”

He hesitated again. “You must realize that until that day I was cocky and arrogant. I was the best Crow in Antiva, I believed, and I bragged of my conquests often… both as an assassin and lover. “

“And then what?”

He looked up and threw the blade in front of him, which planted itself in the soft earth. “One of the Crow masters grew tired of my boasting. My bid for an incredibly difficult mark was accepted, much to my surprise: A wealthy merchant with many guards and completely silent. Taliesen agreed to be part of my team, as well as an elven lass named Rinna. She was… a marvel. Tough, smooth, wicked. Eyes that gleamed like justice. Everything I thought I desired.”

She was a bit taken aback by this. “And… you fell in love?”

“Rinna was special. I had closed off my heart, I thought, but she touched something in me, it frightened me. When Talisem revealed to me that Rinna had accepted a bribe from the merchant, told him of our plan, I readily agreed that she needed to pay the price and allowed Taliesen to kill her.” He hesitated a moment, pressing his lips. “Rinna begged me not to. On her knees, with tears in her eyes, she told me that she loved me and had not betrayed us. I laughed in her face and said that even if it were true, I didn’t care.”

Even though Zevran was not looking at her, she could see the hurt in his eyes. “But that wasn’t true, was it?”

“I convinced myself it was. Taliesen cut her throat and I watched her bleed as she stared up at me. I spat on her for betraying the Crows. When Taliesen and I finally assassinated the merchant we found the true source of his information. Rinna had not betrayed us afterall.”

“I’m so sorry…” There was silence between them, and Saffron questioned if Zevran truly heard what she said or if he was so lost in his thoughts that he forgot she was there.

“I… wanted to tell the crows what we had done, our mistake. Taliesen convinced me not to. He said it would be a foolish waste. So we reported that Rinna had died in the attempt. We needn’t have bothered. The crows knew what we had done. The master who disliked me told me so to my face. He said the Crows knew and they didn’t care. And one day my turn would come.”

Saffron opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. She opened and closed her mouth a couple times in attempts to give him reassuring words, but nothing was said. All she could do was look at him with sad eyes.

“You once asked why I wanted to leave the Crows. In truth, what I wanted to do was die. What better way than to throw myself at one of the fabled Grey Wardens?”

“That is awful, Zevran. I’m so sorry.” The young Elvan huntress had felt many things towards him: Disgust, amusement, lust, embarrassment, but for the first time she felt absolute pity. Tamlen’s death was a mercy killing, something she knew in time she would learn to live with, but Rinna’s was more. Had she been in Zevran’s place would she feel so differently?

His gaze passed to her, and she could feel every bit of those amber eyes “It… feels good to speak it to someone. Whatever it is I sought by leaving Antiva, I think I have found it. I owe you a great deal.”

Despite her own sorrow Saffron managed to give him a small, reassuring smile. “I’m glad to have you with me… with us.”

A moment passed between them, and Zevran finally closed his eyes and smiled. “Let us return to the mission, shall we? Suddenly I do not feel like sitting around.”

By the time the sun had started making its way above the horizon, there was movement in the camp. Zevran stood up and begun making his way to help pack up. Saffron began to roll up her fur, and put it in the pack still sitting next to the grave. She let her eyes pass over the mound of dirt and joined the others in packing up. However, before they left she did visit it one more time. Who knew when they’d be back over this way, if they would at all? There was no guarantee they would survive the trip, let alone killing an Archdemon.

No, she would survive. For Tamlen’s sake she would live to see her revenge.


End file.
